Poets Are Liars
Poets are liars. They cannot be tamed.
They live on borrowed dreams, and have the gift
Of casting out a graceful, witty line,
And catching your heart or mind in their snare;
Reeling you in, helpless, with a deft couplet.
Poets are liars. Never believe them.
Don’t even listen to them if you can help.
They have spells in their tongues, and fire in their eyes.
They will give you suns and stars wrapped in words,
And you will follow them, rapt like a child.
Poets are liars. It’s how they survive.
They give you their lies in exchange for your truths,
And fashion a life of their own from the scraps.
They must have an audience; without it,
They fade and pale, and soon cease to exist.
Poets are liars, even in the womb;
They kick at their mothers, curious, restless,
And dream of wonders to fill the world outside:
Soft, formless lies, growing with each cell,
Chronicled in wordless sagas nine months long.
Poets are liars; and of all liars,
They are the most dangerous. They will tell you
Of love that lasts forever, of lives that changed,
Of happy endings and greater meanings.
They make you wish, and hope, and dream, and feel.
poem by Amy Sutton
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Related quotes
Liars and Lovers
By Ms. Kristen Palmitier
People who lie once should not be called liars
Because while everyone lies once in a while,
Real liars lie all of the time.
In addition, real liars make others feel that they are no good.
Are lovers and liars different, or are they the same?
Both are different and alike in many ways.
You can't really be sure if you love someone
If there is no trust in each other.
There is just no other way to say it:
'Without trust in each other's heart,
There will be no heart to trust.'
And one alone cannot trust;
Both must trust.
poem by Martin Rini
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What Do Liars Then Do?
Liars know who they are.
And what they have done,
To pursue temporary satisfactions.
With a demoralizing of whom they choose.
As if what they've done will stick like glue.
Those who have been scrutinized,
By the telling of false lies...
To have been victimized with tears cried.
Are aware of them too!
Yet to retaliate is something they refuse.
But those who have been undermined,
Do what liars instigating have chosen not to do.
And that is to wait patiently,
To let time intervene...
With a demeaning liars with an applying of truth.
What do liars then do?
Plead to be released from mental guilty beatings.
And even if forgiven,
Liars once exposed for who they are...
Can never find places to keep themselves hidden.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Decision Time
He sat in a chair
and rocked all night.
Could not sleep.
He was so uptight.
He thought about lies
being told by liars.
He thought about burnin'
in hell's fires.
He knew how the lies
would take him down.
The liars would win
and wear the crown.
When the night ended
and the sun came through
he saw it shining
and knew what he would do.
He'd change his life
and never look back.
For all the liars
are on the wrong track.
You can't stay on the road
that leads to hell
or you'll end up like the liars
and stay where they dwell.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Book Of Liars
Bye and bye now
Well get over
The things weve done and the things we said
But not just now when
I can t remember
Exactly what it was I thought we had
cause I waited so long girl and I came so far
To find out youre not always who you say you are
And theres a star in the book of liars by your name
Santa claus came in late last night
Drunk on christmas wine
Fell down hard in the driveway
Hung his bag out on the laundry line
Theres a cobra gunship for his golden boy
And theres a hello kitty for his pride and joy
And a silver star in the book of liars by your name
They hung a star in the book of liars by your name
Stars imploding
The long night passing
Electrons dancing in the frozen crystal dawn
Heres one left stranded at the zero crossing
With a hole in its half-life left to carry on
But now the worlds much larger than it looks today
And if my bad luck ever blows me back this way
Then Ill just look in my book of liars for your name
Ill just look in the book of liars for your name
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Singers, lovers, and poets are privileged liars.
All Is Truth
it is a lie
i am not myself
i am all of nature
the air, water, grass
every thing in everything
i am not myself
how can i be myself
when if the air goes away
i too have to go away
proving that i am but a lie
i am but a cog in the wheel
it is a lie
i am not myself
i am all of nature
the water, the grass, the clouds
how could i be myself
when if the water runs its last drop
i too would too have to make that last pause from the world
those teachers who get me to think i am just
body and bones are liars
i am more than that
how could i be myself only
when if the sun says goodbye
i too have to say goodbye to all
call me anything buy myself
the sun, the moon, the air, water
will vouch for that
you liars
inspired by
All Is Truth
O ME, man of slack faith so long!
Standing aloof-denying portions so long;
Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth;
Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none,
but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon
itself,
Or as any law of the earth, or any natural production of the earth
does.
(This is curious, and may not be realized immediately-But it must be
realized;
I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
And that the universe does.)
Where has fail'd a perfect return, indifferent of lies or the truth?
Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man?
or in the meat and blood?
Meditating among liars, and retreating sternly into myself, I see
that there are really no liars or lies after all,
And that nothing fails its perfect return-And that what are called
lies are perfect returns,
And that each thing exactly represents itself, and what has preceded
it,
And that the truth includes all, and is compact, just as much as
space is compact,
And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth-but
that all is truth without exception;
And henceforth I will go celebrate anything I see or am,
And sing and laugh, and deny nothing.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Son
My liars are even on my brow
Where my eyes are situated.
I see their glaring and staring
When soft and hard collide.
The sight of a candle and cupboard
Appears in my mind,
But it is really there in my room,
My very bedroom, breathing is good.
I ride my body into this considerable sight,
The world is my son of course.
The liars of my sight are like nations
In my world, the son of joy and sleep.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Love Can Be
LOVE can be
outdated, we see
how it fades every
morning when
we rush to leave
and forget
the kiss, when we
seldom talk at
night when we
think that we may
see each other again
inside our
dreams when we realize
that what those
poets of love who are talking
about eternity
have degraded themselves
as liars
like us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Is Meant To Be Told
With a silenced mind,
Listen to them find...
Excuses to make for themselves.
And those who make excuses,
To abuse the truth.
Are liars.
With a quiet mind anyone can find,
Those who pretend.
There are ways to deal with people who pretend.
And there are many of them attempting to defend themselves,
With lies they tell on someone else.
Hoping the doing keeps them popular amongst those unknowing,
Them to be chronic liars prepared to always put on a show...
To protect their insecurities and victimizing those that don't know.
The affects of this are all around.
If one's eyes and ears are kept open.
And one's mouth is kept shut.
While listening to things being instantly made up.
Watch them mentally self destruct.
'Who? '
Those who lie and want you to believe them true.
While they continue to make things up,
As often as they do.
And those they've deceived will eventually awaken,
To disbelieve the doers of these misdeeds.
When the pieces are put together to reveal those faking.
There are ways to deal with people who pretend.
Hoping the doing keeps them popular amongst those unknowing,
Them to be chronic liars.
With a watching them mentally self destruct,
And those they've deceived will eventually awaken,
To disbelieve the doers of these misdeeds...
While listening to them talk about themselves too much,
With a passing of judgement and telling of lies on others.
'But...
How do we know them to do these things? '
Those who make excuses,
To abuse the truth...
Are liars.
And...
With a quiet mind anyone can find,
Those who pretend with a defending of themselves against...
Someone who is not around,
More familiar with the telling of truth as is meant to be told.
'Who do you think are those least likely to tell the truth? '
It is in the observation.
Who has difficulty accepting who they are?
Who uses their ethnicity as a fashion statement,
And not a possessed identity?
And who is quick to assess others like themselves,
With comments made that have no dignity?
And those who lie are always the ones self righteous,
Quick to use God as if God is not aware of false tongues.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If I Knew What Poets Know
If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued
Brothers and sisters put this record down
Take my advice ('cause we are bad news)
We will leave you high and dry
It's not worth the hearing you'll lose
It's just past 8 and I'm feeling young and reckless
The ribbon on my wrist says, "Do not open before Christmas."
We're only liars, but we're the best (we're the best)
We're only good for the latest trends
We're only good cause you can have almost famous friends
Besides, we've got such good fashion sense
Brothers and sisters, yeah, put these words down
Into your notebook (spit lines like these)
We're friends when you're on your knees
Make them dance like we were shooting their feet
It's just past 8 and I'm feeling young and reckless
The ribbon on my wrist says, "Do not open before Christmas."
We're only liars, but we're the best (we're the best)
We're only good for the latest trends
We're only good cause you can have almost famous friends
Besides, we've got such good fashion sense
We're only liars, but we're the best
We're only good for the latest trends
We're only liars, but we're the best
We're only good for the latest trends
We're only good cause you can have almost famous friends
Besides, we've got such good fashion sense
song performed by by Fall Out Boy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Propaganda Poets
Lies only stand if the good are weak
For only the truth is strong.
It's to feeble minds that the liars speak,
Not to minds who know right from wrong.
And words are writ by the poets bought,
Those who care only for their purse,
And the price is paid for a message wrought
To be hid in a metered verse.
Whether those who sell, or the ones in power,
They will catch the thoughtless ear,
And the seed they plant, it will grow and flower,
Into profits or into fear.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall
Oh down at the tavern
the children are singing
around their round table
and around me still.
Did you hear what it said?
I only said
how there is a pewter urn
pinned to the tavern wall,
as old as old is able
to be and be there still.
I said, the poets are tere
I hear them singing and lying
around their round table
and around me still.
Across the room is a wreath
made of a corpse's hair,
framed in glass on the wall,
as old as old is able
to be and be remembered still.
Did you hear what it said?
I only said
how I want to be there and I
would sing my songs with the liars
and my lies with all the singers.
And I would, and I would but
it's my hair in the hair wreath,
my cup pinned to the tavern wall,
my dusty face they sing beneath.
Poets are sitting in my kitchen.
Why do these poets lie?
Why do children get children and
Did you hear what it said?
I only said
how I want to be there,
Oh, down at the tavern
where the prophets are singing
around their round table
until they are still.
poem by Anne Sexton
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The poet's page
Like a band of beggars
Revealing to each other
Where to find the bread
Is the poets page
An open line
Where poets reveal what's
Inside their heads
A platform of
Artistic exchange
Where an accompany of poets
Express what should be said,
As the
Words seems to take on life
For they are poet read
Poets can feel one anothers pain
As well as relates to each
others shame
Emphasizing on a topic is
A poet's personal lane
Poets dvides the spoil
As they expand, due to
sharing their gain
This is partly my analogy
Of a poet's fame
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Truth is a Flower
Doubt may crack from deletions of war,
Such that delusions mutter slowly
Making the populace to be mad
And then madder
And madder than that.
Truth is a different job and career,
For you who has guilt in the work.
Mud and wild flowers can be swallowed
In a mouthful by the liars.
They are all mad liars, that much.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A poor pen
Pen is
Not great...
On the paper...
poet write at
Moon+ sky...
Stars...
Earth and sea...
All are in poets
Hand only
At poets hand...
Poets is think...
Poets dream...
Thats all
pen is very poor
Noock out...
undrestad to try...
Try too under stand....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Actors are good liars; writers are good liars with good memories.
quote by Daniel Keys Moran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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